


Blue-Brown Eyes

by Anonymous



Series: AHS fic anon [4]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Insecurity, Light Angst, no established canon we fanon like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In theory: Audrey puts on the finalized Shelby Miller look to show Billie.In reality: Audrey steps into another person, and tells Billie more about herself as Audrey than either of them expected.
Relationships: Billie Dean Howard/Audrey Tindall
Series: AHS fic anon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131674
Kudos: 4
Collections: Anonymous





	Blue-Brown Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shineestark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineestark/gifts).



> Like a fool I never noticed Sarah/Audrey wore colored contacts to play Shelby, and posited to Vivi shineestark how Billie might react to such a change. She gave me the line “they look nice, but I like _your_ eyes better” and got me feeling some kind of way about it.

“Knock, knock.”

Billie Dean startles at her desk, looking up from her paperwork, surprised to find Audrey in the doorway, leaning timidly against the frame.

Earlier in the week Audrey had mentioned the color contacts she’d be wearing for ‘My Roanoke Nightmare’ had been finalized by production and they were sending a pair over for her to wear and get used to. Billie figured at some point Audrey would put on the whole ensemble, knowing Audrey liked to take time and rehearse in-character when possible, but had no clue when the contacts would actually arrive.

It’s a surprise, then, to see Audrey curled around the doorframe.

The long hair Billie herself had watched grow in the intervening months since Audrey got the job, and the clothing - weathered, slouchy jeans and an off-white linen poet shirt under a grey cardigan- is not Audrey’s usual but still something either of them might wear given half an inclination. 

The real surprise is Audrey’s demeanor, her body language. 

Audrey isn’t overwhelming, at least not to Billie, but she fills a room when she enters it. She carries herself with self-assuredness, and her personality pops and fizzles out of every pore. This person, this version of someone Audrey has put on, is shy, subdued, calm but almost nervous. She doesn’t thrum with energy like Audrey does, but has a sway to her, a graceful ease to her body Billie’s never seen before.

It occurs to Billie, then, that even Audrey’s speech is different. Her announcement had been missing the rounded smoothness of her British accent, instead consisting of a flat American sound in a slightly higher pitch than Audrey’s natural tone.

This must be Shelby Miller. Or, at least, Audrey’s take on Shelby Miller.

Billie leans back in her office chair, taking off her reading glasses as she does, and Audrey takes that as a sign to pad over to Billie, rounding her desk to fold herself into a kneeling position at Billie’s feet.

The whole walk Billie spends observing this Shelby-version of Audrey. She was right that Audrey’s holding herself differently, her steps purposeful but light and smooth and her whole body pulled up into perfect posture. The hours of yoga seem to be paying off.

As Audrey lowers herself to her knees, Billie is close enough to finally see the infamous contacts Audrey said production had been hemming and hawing about for weeks at this point. The real Shelby Miller has blue eyes, and despite how dark Audrey’s eyes are, the show producers had insisted she wear contacts to match their color.

The final effect isn’t anywhere close to the cornflower blue of Shelby Miller, but the contacts do give enough definition to paint Audrey’s eyes much closer to a deep blue than the brown they normally are. It’s just uncanny enough to ping as artificial, but it still throws Billie for a loop.

Billie turns in her chair, facing Audrey properly, and Audrey shuffles forward between her knees, resting her hands on Billie’s thighs.

“Well,” she asks quietly, the new soft, American accent to go along with this decidedly un-Audrey look almost unnerving to Billie, “What do you think?”

Audrey’s face is so hopeful, and so Billie reaches out and gently tilts her head this way and that, taking her time looking her over.

Billie knows Audrey has a complicated relationship with her looks. It’s never been a question of attractiveness, Audrey knows full well she looks good, but more a question of being attractive in the right kind of ways. Acting, or at least good acting, requires skill, but also requires the sheer luck of looking whatever way gets you that job on that day. 

Audrey likes her looks, likes her hair and her accent and her dark eyes and her somewhat bird-boned body. But Billie also knows there are days Audrey sees herself as last year’s model, nothing about her adaptable to the ever-changing whimsy of popularity.

There’s something about this look, with its honey-blonde hair more comparable to Billie’s natural color than the brown-muddled blonde Audrey normally dyes sunny, its airy, light clothing in neutral whites and greys that lengthens and softens the line of Audrey’s silhouette a far cry from the form-fitting pops of color bundled together by stylists and directors alike, its blue eyes trying to match Shelby Miller’s own troubled blue-grey ones, something about all of this together is… 

And then it clicks for Billie, snippets of conversations and comments and unspoken impressions coming together in a conclusion she knows is right - this is who Audrey wishes she was.

It’s not a strong wish, not a full-time wish, but Billie knows there’s something inside Audrey that occasionally erupts and bubbles and spills out and wishes she was more patient, that wishes she was quieter, less loud, that wishes she was a little calmer, a little younger, a little softer around the edges, that wishes she’d been born that seemingly perfect mix of blonde and blue-eyed and lithe and lean.

Shelby Miller doesn’t know it, but she’s everything Audrey occasionally wishes she were, and a representation of everything she occasionally hates about herself.

It hurts for a moment, to realize Audrey isn’t just asking if she looks good, if Billie still finds her captivating under the layers of another person, she’s asking: do you like this? Do you like me like this? Do you see, Billie? I’m finally her. I’m finally someone they’ll like. Would you like me more if I was her?

Billie keeps her face neutral, or tries very hard to. She doesn’t want a stray arch of an eyebrow or twitch of her cheek to give Audrey the wrong impression.

Because the reality is, she doesn’t mind this look. She doesn’t mind the change in hair color, or the change in clothing, or even the change in eye color. She doesn’t mind it.

But it’s not Audrey.

Correction - it’s not _her_ Audrey.

_Her_ Audrey is brash and loud and sparkling in her energy, her voice rising and falling like a tide that always pulls Billie straight home to her. 

_Her_ Audrey is impatient and squirming and all Billie sees is her enthusiasm, her excitement for whatever she’s doing, and her need to be doing it now, to not waste time, to cut through the bullshit and enjoy the laughter and joy and fun of whatever she’s waiting for. 

_Her_ Audrey is always longing to cut her hair short again, to try something playful and flirty and easy to maintain because she has more important things to do than sit and style waist-length hair, like kissing Billie for all she’s worth while Billie’s trying to get work done. 

_Her_ Audrey has eyes as dark as fathoms and as open and clear as a mirror, eyes that Billie never, ever wants to lose because they are the truest part of Audrey’s soul peeking out into the physical world.

“Hmm,” Billie hums quietly, reaching up to run a loose strand of hair through her fingers. At her lack of response, Audrey’s smile begins to falter, and Billie is quick to tug Audrey closer to her, pulling her up so her weight is on her knees and her chest is nearly pressed to Billie’s stomach.

“You make an excellent Shelby Miller,” Billie hedges, watching as Audrey breaks character for a bit to beam up at Billie. She cups Audrey’s face in one hand, brushing her thumb over her cheekbone as she pretends to continue to look the ensemble over, buying time to think carefully about what she wants to say.

“But the truth is,” she continues quietly, thumbing at the corner of Audrey’s mouth as she catches Audrey’s gaze, “I like _you_ a whole lot better. Brown eyes and all.”

Audrey stills for a moment, eyes blinking up at Billie before the façade shatters and Billie is left with just Audrey, who looks up at her tremulously, lower lip quivering as tears pool in her eyes.

“Oh, baby,” Billie tries to soothe, apologetic as she swipes at the tears escaping down Audrey’s cheeks, “Don’t cry, sweet girl. You know I can’t stand it when you cry; it makes me cry, too.”

Audrey lets out a choked sob and throws herself at Billie, wrapping her arms around Billie’s shoulders to bury her face in Billie’s neck. Billie likewise pulls her close, eyes tearing as she presses gentle kisses to Audrey’s hair and just holds her.

This is also something Billie knows about Audrey - the part of her starved for the reassurance that she is enough, that she has always been enough. It tears Billie up to think somewhere along the way the world gave her that wound to carry, but she tries her best to help it heal, though some days all she can do is alleviate the pain for a while.

“I love you,” Audrey murmurs, lips tickling at the skin of Billie’s throat, and Billie squeezes Audrey tighter.

“Love you, too, my sweet girl,” Billie whispers, “Every part of you.”


End file.
